


Buttoned-up

by help_me_no



Series: Sensitivity [1]
Category: Tales of Crestoria
Genre: Clothed Sex, Coming Untouched, Dirty Talk, Dry Orgasm, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:20:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26362558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/help_me_no/pseuds/help_me_no
Summary: Aegis wears a lot of layers and hides a lot of skin. Vicious takes note.aka Aegis is extremely sensitive.
Relationships: Aegis Alver/Vicious
Series: Sensitivity [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1935166
Comments: 16
Kudos: 101





	Buttoned-up

**Author's Note:**

> My first fic in a very long time and first fic posted to ao3 and it ends up being some pretty filthy smut. I'd say shameless, but the idea of this being the first/only fic on my profile is too much so I'm sharing it anonymously (for now at least). 
> 
> Update: Now with incredible art by the inimitable Miyukiko at <https://twitter.com/Miyukiko/status/1304068197658685440>!!!! Check it out!!
> 
> Update 2: This series is uh.... no longer anon.

Aegis and Vicious are wrapping up a fight when it happens. It's some inane errand Kanata’s managed to get them wrapped up in, and each time they seem to get increasingly complicated, with more and more parts, though rarely difficult. As such, their group has been split up, and Aegis and Vicious have been tasked with fighting some beasts to retrieve some trinket while the rest of their group engages in some other set of tasks elsewhere.

The fight itself wasn’t hard, but this set of beasts seems to be the only ones of any consequence for miles, and the two have spent the better part of the day chasing them through the forest, before the beasts finally turned to face them in the dilapidated walls of some long abandoned and crumbling structure.

So Aegis thinks he can be forgiven for being a little short with Vicious when he stretches lazily, dismissing his guns with a drawled “Y’know, I gotta ask, why’re you always so... buttoned-up?”

Aegis dismisses his own lance—trying to ignore how he’s still not used to a weapon he doesn’t need to carry, how there’s always the nagging sense of a weight missing as he travels, how part of him is afraid next time the lance won’t come back and he’ll be left defenseless. That train of thought always leaves him feeling oddly vulnerable, flayed open, the kind of perpetual off-kilter he feels with his new circumstances, and while he tries to avoid that even at the best of times, he knows conversations with Vicious tend to make that feeling worse. If he’s going to make it out of this conversation unscathed, he needs to start off as even-headed as possible, to keep from being completely unbalanced.

Vicious doesn’t seem to be paying Aegis much mind—or rather, there’s an odd lazy attention he has that’s always disarming, where it’s hard to gauge if he’s completely focused on you, or if you don’t really register to him at all. Aegis ignores the sense that he’s been wrapped up in his own head for too long, knows its just a byproduct of the way a pause in conversation with Vicious always feels like a million years, and tries to grasp at the threads of what Vicious was saying, trying to pick apart the deeper meaning Vicious is getting at. (Or is that just that strange impression Vicious gives again, where it feels like everything he says is simultaneously frivolous and heavy? Aegis can never tell which it is in a given moment.)

“Are you trying to imply my fighting is too serious again? I’ve told you, it  _should_ be serious.”

Vicious grins, and Aegis feels like he’s missed a step. “Nah. Although, that too. But I meant it literally.”

(‘Ah’, Aegis thinks, ‘I misjudged. He wasn’t speaking deeply at all.’)

Vicious’s grin seems to widen (or was it always that wide? was Aegis trapped this whole time?) as he stalks forward with his panther’s grace. Aegis resolutely holds his ground as Vicious draws close, trying not to be too obvious at the way his head has to tip back to maintain eye contact. Vicious is the one to drop it, and Aegis doesn’t have the chance to feel relieved, because Vicious’s lowered gaze is paired with his hand reaching out, long fingers slipping under Aegis’s lapel. As his fingers—and his gaze—deliberately trailing from Aegis’s collar to his ribs, Vicious applies just enough force to pull the jacket ever so slightly towards him, tugging Aegis with it, but just short of the kind of pressure that Aegis could justify as aggression and jerk away from. It ends up bowing his back, just a little, into an arch towards Vicious, as his feet stand their ground, but his chest is pulled towards Vicious.

Vicious’ voice is low, a rumble that Aegis can feel in his ribs, against his jaw; “I meant this. All these clothes. All these  _layers_.” At this, his hand pulls free of the lapel to reach down and play with the lacy hem that peaks out below Aegis’s jacket. “What even is this? What’s it all for?”

Aegis tries not to fidget, sure it would be a giveaway to the heat he can feel accumulating, climbing his neck, hidden, for now, beneath his clothes. “Not everyone can go around dressed as skimpily as you. I am—“ He falters for the barest fraction of a second. “I was a knight, and I still have certain standards of  _decency_ to uphold. Especially when around someone like you, who so flagrantly defies them!”

He thinks it’s a pretty good retort, he really does, but then Vicious’s gaze meets his again, and it feels like all the air has been knocked out of him. Or maybe time has just turned to molasses, because Vicious’s hand reaches up and grabs Aegis’s own wrist, and it was hardly lightning fast, but Aegis can’t respond fast enough to do anything but jerk away, arm already fully in Vicious’s grasp, slamming his own back into a wall (or a tree? a corner? he’s not sure, and every neuron is so focused on the heat of Vicious’s grasp, he probably couldn’t say, even if his life depended on it.) Maybe that’s what knocked the breath out of him. Maybe—

And Vicious is guiding Aegis’s hand up to his own bare torso, under the high cropped edge of his absurd jacket, and even through Aegis’s glove, Vicious’s skin beneath Aegis’s palm  _burns_. (‘Of course he’s hot,’ part of Aegis’s mind says. ‘Of  course. ’)

“See,” Vicious says, “I think it’s not about decency at all. I think it’s armor.” Vicious’s grip guides Aegis’s hand up just a little more, and the tips of his fingers brush the edge of a nipple, and now Aegis burns too.

“I think all those layers keep you pristine and wrapped up. But the benefit of laying it all out there like me, is you get used to it. I decide what bothers me and what doesn’t, and how much.”

Vicious continues guiding Aegis’s hand across his chest, all the while grinning his wolf grin, and Aegis can’t move, can’t  _breathe_. And when Vicious lets go, Aegis doesn’t have enough sense in his head to pull back, leaves it there instead, feeling his own blood thrumming in his veins, as if in response to the rush of heat it feels beneath his palm.

Then Vicious reaches out again, slow, steady, and Aegis could easily stop him, or move out of the way, or say something, do  _anything_ , but he just watches, transfixed, as Vicious’s open palm presses against the blue of Aegis’s jacket, right over his heart, fingers splayed, the two of them poses in mirror images of each other. And then Vicious keeps pushing, a firm force pinning Aegis to the surface behind his back. And then Vicious’s fingers curl, ever so slightly, and  _drag_.

The friction of Aegis’s own shirt against his skin, the thick layers of his jacket dulling the sensation, but not the  force  of Vicious’s hand, tears a high keening wail out of his throat. Aegis would be embarrassed at the noise if every nerve in his skin wasn’t firing at the way Vicious is pressing his own clothes into and across his chest.

“Decency?” Vicious rumbles, leaning in to Aegis’s ear, breath hot and wet across his cheek and jaw and throat. “There’s nothing decent about you at all.”

Like this, Aegis can’t see Vicious’s face (Vicious can’t see his), and Aegis can’t convince himself to gather his strength and school his expression into something more proper. Instead he tips forward, panting open mouthed against Vicious’s shoulder. He can feel the fabric of Vicious’s jacket beginning to go damp just with the intensity of his breath, but he can’t stop himself.

Vicious huffs out a little laugh, presses his hand just a little harder into Aegis’s chest (‘ oh, ’ his nerves sing, ‘ _oh_.’), and that little push is just enough to drive Aegis up onto his toes, which in turn is just enough for Vicious to fit his own leg between Aegis’s thighs. When the pressure lifts (just a little), and Aegis’s body resettles across Vicious’s thigh, a tremble runs through him, all the way from the tips of his fingers to the tops of his ears the the very ends of his toes.

All this time, Vicious’s hand drags slow and steady across Aegis’s chest, pressing his clothes into him, triggering little shivers every time a seam catches, or Vicious gives a tiny little dig of his fingernails—Aegis can barely feel it through his clothes, but he can  _imagine_ — or each time the next finger of Vicious’s hand finally rides over the edge of Aegis’s nipple.

It feels like a moment, it feels like an eternity, and Aegis forgets that Vicious has two hands until the other curls back around Aegis’s wrist, which, somewhere along the line, had gone limp and fallen out of Vicious’s jacket to dangle uselessly at Aegis’s side. (Aegis’s other hand is fisted fiercely in the back of Vicious’s jacket, a death grip as he gasps into Vicious’s shoulder, as he sits astride his thigh, too overwhelmed to even rock into it, nerves blown out just from the pressure.)

Aegis doesn’t pay Vicious’s second hand any mind at first. How could he, when the first is so overwhelming? When just the presence of Vicious’s thigh against Aegis’s dick makes him feel like he’s losing his mind? The grip around his wrist is nice, a little grounding, but so insignificant against everything else. And then Vicious’s fingers climb up Aegis’s forearm, slip beneath the heavy cuffs of his sleeves, smear calloused fingertips against the sensitive skin at the inside of his wrist, and tuck under the edges of Aegis’s glove against his palm, and Aegis seizes with a dry orgasm.

He’s screaming, muffled into Vicious’s shoulder, and Vicious only hums, dropping his other hand from Aegis’s chest to his hip, holding him firmly in place as he shudders. “Oh darling,” he says against Aegis’s ear, and the threat-promise-anticipation of more skin on skin burns through the haze of Aegis’s mind. “I’m going to destroy you.”

His fingers still play with the edge of Aegis’s glove, sending aftershocks through him, and as Aegis comes down, Vicious’s composure is aggravating as he continues to talk into Aegis’s ear.

“I was going to take you apart, unwrap all these layers to see how sensitive you are underneath, but look at you. I don’t think you could even take it.”

Vicious slowly hooks his fingers into the little pearly button that clasps Aegis’s glove shut, pulling it open, and Aegis turns his head to watch. He can’t see the spot where skin meets skin, hidden beneath the heavy quilted cuff of his coat, but he can see the back of Vicious’s hand shifting, feel it in time with the gentle stroke of his fingertips against Aegis’s wrist.

“Maybe next time I’ll pull these gloves off with my teeth. Maybe I won’t be neat and tidy about it. Maybe I’ll get my spit all over those nice white gloves, let you feel how warm and wet my mouth is.”

Aegis shudders. He thinks he can imagine it, but when Vicious’s hand was pressing into his chest, he thought he could imagine what Vicious’s bare skin against his would feel like, and he now knows he was woefully underprepared.

Vicious continues on, heedless of, or perhaps spurred on by the minute trembling in Aegis’s frame. As his spasms grew less violent, Vicious’s other hand (‘the one on your hip’ Aegis’s mind tells him, ‘the one on your chest, the one against your nipple, the one that was taking you apart’) shifts up to Aegis’s back, slow, soothing strokes in time with the fingertips at his wrist. It’s overwhelming in an entirely different way.

“Or maybe I’ll get my fingers in your mouth, press it open, feel that pretty little tongue as you gasp through another one of those orgasms. What’ll it take to get you off, and properly this time? Because I can feel you.”

At this, Vicious rocks his thigh up against Aegis’s dick, his leg’s first deliberate motion, and Aegis moans.

“I can feel how hard you still are. And I can tell you’re not quite sloppy yet. Do you want that, Aegis? Do you want to come in your pants, leave them soaking, from nothing more than my voice, some heavy petting through your clothes, and  _holding your hand_?”

Vicious pulls Aegis’s glove off all the way at the same time as he finally presses his mouth to Aegis’s neck, tucks up right under his jaw to lick a searing wet line, and Aegis can’t think, can’t speak, although he hears his own voice, a tiny whisper of ‘yes, yes  yes yes ’, and he can’t tell if it’s in his own head. He’s not trying to form words, he doesn’t feel like he’s capable of it, but he can feel his own tongue fumbling clumsily in his mouth, as his head rolls back and he stares up into the tree canopy above, and Vicious is laughing quietly against his throat.

“Are you sure?” And like this, Aegis can feel Vicious’s words as much as he can hear them, feels his nerves firing at every brush of Vicious’s lips as he speaks. “You really okay with getting messy like that, Aegis? You want to walk back through this forest with evidence in your pants of how riled up you got from nothing?” He chuckles. “Sounds uncomfortable.”

Vicious’s fingers finally slip free of Aegis’s palm. He can’t tell if he’s relieved or anguished at the loss.

Vicious has leaned back and his now free hand reaches up and cups at Aegis’s dick through his pants. His other hand continues to stroke those slow soothing patterns across Aegis’s back, and the dissonance between the two is frying Aegis’s brain.

“Would you prefer I reach in and hold you? Pull you out and let you spill into my hand? Do you think you could take that, my bare hand against your dick? We could prevent the mess.”

Aegis can’t even process what that might feel like. Vicious’s bare touch against his hand, his wrist, his throat have been overwhelming enough, and even through his clothes Vicious had been able to take him apart.

Maybe Vicious can read his mind. “I don’t know if you can take that, I’m worried that kind of stimulation might blow your brains right out. Can you imagine what real sex would do to you? I could fuck you stupid. Nothing left in that pretty head of yours.”

Aegis is gasping and his eyes refocus to realize Vicious is right in front of him. Vicious is still grinning that infuriating grin, gaze burning right through Aegis, and though he can feel that Vicious is hard against his own leg, the look on his face is as smug and composed in his own shit-eating way as ever. Somehow, in the heat of it, Aegis finds that searingly, embarrassingly hot, and Vicious’s gaze sets him squirming.

Aegis tries to form words, managing to gasp out a strangled “Vicious- I- I can’t. I’m-“ And Vicious leans in, speaking right up against Aegis’s lips.

“Why don’t you show me what you can take?” and his hand at Aegis’s crotch pops his fly. “Take yourself out, touch yourself. Show me exactly how much you need.”

Aegis fumbles his still-gloved hand into his pants, pulling himself out just enough for the sensation of cotton on sensitive skin, of Vicious’s breath against his lips, of Vicious still gently stroking his back, to send him over the edge, wailing into Vicious’s mouth.

Aegis eventually comes down, and he half expects Vicious to pull away, to drop him on the ground and leave him there, messy and debauched. But through it Vicious just holds him, still stroking his back, slow and steady and over and over. And that just makes its worse. Or better. Or... something. But Aegis thinks it’s what drags the afterglow out so long, body thrumming with energy and pleasure, kept there instead of dissipating by the sensation of Vicious’s hand on his back, dulled by the layers of clothing.

He’s still dizzy with it all when Vicious speaks, voice low against his ear once again. “You have a hanky in all this? You seem like a guy who’d have a hanky.”

“H-Whuh?” Aegis slurs, and Vicious has the gall to laugh. It’s a deep, rolling belly laugh though, and feeling Vicious’s shoulders roll takes all the sting out of it.

“I was half kidding about fucking you stupid, but it’s kind of hot. We gotta clean you up though, ‘s why I ask. Could just use your gloves, they’re already messy enough, but I’m worried you’ll fuss at me if we use them as a rag and throw them out here.”

Aegis rolls his head against Vicious shoulder to look down at himself. He’s right—the gloves are a mess, one smeared into the dirt where it was dropped, and presumably stepped on in the heat of the moment, and the other that he still wears is splattered with cum. Despite that, it also seems to have contained most of the mess. Aegis carefully fumbles his arms around and pulls his last glove off, holding it delicately between two fingers, and grimaces, unsure of what to do.

“I suppose they’re a lost cause”, he starts, “so there’s no reason to be preserving them anymore.”

Vicious’s voice is low. Aegis can’t quite parse the tone of it without looking up, but he feels wrung out and his head feels so heavy. “You gonna be okay if we do that?”

“What do you mean? I said it was fine.”

“I mean,” and there’s an uncharacteristic pause that Aegis would call hesitant on anyone else, “You gonna be too sensitive? Both in ah... cleaning you up and losing your gloves.”

“I’ll be fine,” Aegis mumbles into Vicious’s neck. He feels more tired by the minute.

When Vicious delicately takes the glove from him, Aegis can’t repress the shiver when their hands brush, nor can he help the overstimulated little gasps that are wrung out from him as Vicious uses the glove to wipe him down. Only when Vicious has to tuck him gently back into his pants do his bare hands touch Aegis’s dick, and even that light sensation makes Aegis writhe a little and wish he had the stamina to keep going.

Vicious lets Aegis down, stepping back as Aegis gets his feet back under him, and only as Vicious’s leg between his thighs slips away does Aegis realize Vicious is still hard.

“What about—“ Aegis stops, then starts again, “You’re still—“ He’s trying to right himself, regaining some of his composure, but he can still feel a flush suffusing his cheeks as he gestures towards Vicious, who’s beginning to turn and walk away.

Vicious pauses, turns back, and grins. “Don’t worry about it. I told you, I’ve got a talent for deciding what bothers me, and how much.” He takes a single step back towards Aegis, not enough to really be in his space, especially not after how closely they’ve been pressed, but just enough for Aegis to feel the heat of Vicious’s breath ruffle his hair as he speaks. 

“And I don’t want this to be the place where I show ya exactly what it’s like when I decide to let something bother me.”

**Author's Note:**

> Edit: Now with a part 2 (and a part 3 on the way!)
> 
> Comments would be great if only as reassurance that my writing is still comprehensible but y'know, you do you.


End file.
